A few more thoughts, late at night, about Ozu's "Tokyo Story"

I know I have written about the film before, where I registered my fond surprise at how excellent I found it, despite all the expectations which had weighed so heavily on it. On and off since then, however, Ozu's Tokyo Story had come back to me at astonishingly frequent intervals and with increasingly resonant intensities. It's like the old lover who won't go away - the one who constantly preys at the edges of your mind all day long.

Alot of people call this "the best film about parent-children relationships", or more or less in those words. I think, however, that that is such a thin and superficial wrap (just because it deals with parents and children - hello?!). This film is about discovery, it is about everything we will ever discover in life: how we thought our parents were heroes, but they are not; how we thought our children were angels, but they are not; how we thought our spouses were perfect, but they are not; how we thought life would all work out, but it does not; how we thought we had everything, but we do not. How we thought there would always be music and celebration, but all we hear is a soft, weary sigh at the end of a long, long night.